The Viral Epiphany (14 page)

           
“Yes, of course. Have you made some progress?”

           
Sheila smiled, “Yes, but it’ll have to wait. Dan, listen.
 
I think there is something else you need to know – right now!”

           
“What is it?
 
What’s wrong?

           
 
“OK.
 
Well, I’m not one hundred percent sure about this, but I thought I had better tell you.
 
I was just over at the department office and there are a couple of men there who want to speak to you.”

           
“OK. So?

           
“Yes, I know. It may not be anything, but I have a funny feeling. I’m not sure you should meet them.
 
I don’t know why.
 
They just don’t seem right, you know?”

           
“Really? I wonder who they could be? I’m not expecting anyone today.
 
Did you happen to catch their names?”

           
“No, I didn’t. But they had left their business card on Nancy’s desk.
 
I got a peek at it while she was talking to James in his office.”

           
“And?”

           
“Their card said they were from an American company.
 
It’s called Omega Pharmaceuticals. Have you heard of them?”

           
“Omega?” Dan asked, his eyes suddenly widening,
 
“Are you sure it said Omega?”

           
“Yes, of course.”

           
“Where are they now?
 
Did they follow you?”
 
Dan looked over her shoulder in the direction of the campus, past the larch trees and rose bushes, past the Michael Collins monument, towards the park gate.

           
Sheila saw the alarm on his face and she felt her own inner sense of danger begin to increase as she watched him look around. “Dan, what is it?
 
Why are they here?”

           
“It must be the letters,” he said.
           
“The letters?… Yes!.. They must have found out about them!” Sheila said as she turned back to look at the gate.

At that moment, a shiny new black Mercedes C-350 drove up and parked outside the gate. Two tall men came out of the car and slowly looked around.
 
Without a word Dan grabbed Sheila’s hand and pulled her along with him as he began to run into the grove of poplar trees at the riverbank.

           
“What are you doing?” she almost shouted. “Dan!”

           
“Hurry, Sheila.
 
Hurry.
 
We just have to get away,” he said as he jumped into one of the rowboats that had been left on the bank.
 
“Hop in,” he said. “Hurry!”

 
He pushed the boat away from the bank and as they rapidly drifted downstream towards the rapids at the Mardyke Weir, the two black-suited Americans ran into the park.

Fifteen

           
Pristine and white, the hotel towers along Bangkok’s Sukhumvit Road gleamed even more brightly in the sparkling warmth of the early afternoon sun.
 
A brief shower had recently passed by and the street was a shiny, gleaming strip of black. Little puddles reflected the brightness of the blue sky overhead.
 
From Dr. Charles Goodfellow’s vantage point, the elegant buildings, trimmed with their sprinklings of shady palms and the occasional oasis of a Chinese water garden, appeared to march off into the tropical haze like the Pyramids of Giza.
 
Sukhumvit, one of Bangkok’s major shopping and entertainment areas, a locale where many foreign nationals resided, appeared calm and serene.

After a minute, however, it became clear that Sukumvit wasn’t serene; it was eerie.
 
There were no cars moving on the road – no people walking on the sidewalks.
 
Far in the distance, he could now see orange flames silently pouring from the windows of many of the buildings, their fiery tips like serpent’s tongues licking the exterior walls and tasting the air.
 
Dr. Charles Goodfellow was urgently gathering vital information for UNAPS on this trip to Southeast Asia.
 
He had made the decision to personally visit the region to confirm the extent of the devastation that had been reported in the newspapers.
 
Now, as the sun neared its zenith he squinted and carefully looked down the long length of the street, but he still could not see any movement.
 
There was no sign of life at all except for the man he was talking with, Dr. Dennis Murphy of the U.S. Centers for Disease Control.
 
Dennis was wearing a bio-hazard Level A, metallic-looking, Hazmat flash suit, complete with a self-contained air supply good for at least two hours.
 
He had been lowered to the street level by a Thai Air Force helicopter over an hour ago and had been examining the bodies on the streets and in the buildings of Bangkok.
 

           
As people abandoned the city they had, at first, built huge funeral pyres for the dead, but as the number of new victims increased at an enormous rate they gave up, and then, finally, most refused to even approach the bodies. Instead they began setting fire to the buildings where the victims had lived and died.
 
Then, at last, in sheer panic, the inhabitants of this once vibrant and bustling city simply ran, and in their frantic rush they left everything behind, including the dying and the dead, wherever they lay.

           
“Have you been able to get all the samples you need?” Dr Goodfellow asked.

           
“Oh, yes.
 
I’ve bagged quite a few sets of material.
 
It should be good enough to identify the disease organism once we get it back to Atlanta.”

           
“It looks like there were victims scattered all over the city.”

           
“Yeh, it’s unbelievable.
 
They’re everywhere.
 
If you ask me, this disease is not spread by mosquitoes.”

           
“Really? Why do you say that?”

           
“There’s no way.
 
There were just too many victims all at once.
 
There would have to be huge swarms of infected mosquitoes to cause this.
 
And that just doesn’t happen in nature.
 
But there’s another thing… I haven’t seen any mosquitoes here at all.
 
I mean Bangkok is a really modern city, and pretty clean too, right?
 
Nope.
 
It’s not mosquitoes.”
           
“So how do you think it spreads?” Charles asked looking over Dennis’s shoulder.
 
He couldn’t begin to count the bodies he saw lying in the distance.

           
“I’m not sure, but my guess is that it spreads just like the flu – through contact with infected surfaces or it could be airborne particles or maybe via human to human contact.
 
Maybe all of those things. I don’t know, but I do know this: this thing must be extremely contagious.
 
I’ve taken a lot of swabs from surfaces too. Doorknobs, drinking glasses, table tops – anything people might ordinarily touch.”

           
“Contagious! Are you sure?”
 
Dr. Goodfellow felt his pulse quicken.
 
“I thought we were all convinced that this was a mosquito-borne disease.”

           
Dennis shook his head slightly, but it was hard to see because of the hood he was wearing. “Maybe it was mosquito-borne at one time. Maybe it still is. But there has to be other ways too. It’s spreading way too fast. That’s my opinion anyway. We’ll know for sure I think when we get all these samples analyzed.”

 
         
“I see.” Dr. Goodfellow said. A feeling of overwhelming fear began to grow within him.
 
He could feel the hairs on his arms stiffen.
 
He turned away from the large screen, real time, video display in his room at the Singapore Hilton for a moment. His eyes traversed the long row of plate glass windows, all tightly sealed in order to maintain a comfortable environment. He recalled how he had insisted, when his hotel reservations were made, that he must only be in rooms where no mosquitoes would ever be able to get in.
 
That was supposed to keep me safe…
Damn!!
he thought.

“Look, Dennis.
 
I have to get going.
 
This is really interesting stuff and I’ll pass it all along.
 
I really have so much to do running the whole UNAPS investigation – but let’s stay in touch OK?”
 
He took a quick sip of his raspberry flavored iced tea.

           
“Sure thing, Dr. Goodfellow.
 
We’ll let you know what we find out.
 
Maybe we can learn something from the survivors.”

           
“Survivors! What? You found people who have survived?”
           
“Well, not me.
 
I heard from one of the other investigators that a couple of families had been rescued from an apartment complex on New Petchburi Road.
 
I believe they are Americans who have been here on a long vacation.”

           
“Americans?
 
Is that so?” Dr. Goodfellow said.
 
“Do you know anything about them? Like, where were they from?
 
And, uh, were they Caucasian?”

           
“I don’t know much really. I think they were from New York and that the two families had been traveling together.
 
Maybe they were related.
 
I think one of the families was named Smith.
 
That’s all I heard.”

           
“Smith? From New York?
 
Interesting… Look, Dennis thanks.
 
I’ll catch you later. Take care of yourself. I really have to get going. Good work out there. Good work!”

Dr. Goodfellow turned off the communication link to the CDC researcher and walked over to the windows that overlooked Orchard Road and the heart of the city.
 
It was another steaming hot day in Singapore, he could tell just by looking out the window.
 
There were small drops of condensation in the corners and off in the distance a warm-looking haze obscured the horizon.
 
Towering cumulus clouds were beginning to build off to the left, a sure harbinger of the usual mid-afternoon thunderstorm.

Traffic was moving along smoothly, as usual, on the streets below. The high-end shops that lined Orchard Road were open and business looked good.
 
It’s
not mosquitoes,
he thought,
not mosquitoes
!
 
Damn it!
 
What the hell am I doing here? Didn’t Jim say that all the cases so far in Singapore were confined to the Woodlands and Sembawang areas? That’s near the Malaysian border, not near here.
 
I remember he said that everyone thought that this was mosquito-borne! Damn…

He felt his anger rising along with his fear.
 
He snatched up the phone from the table and called Jim Nelson’s direct number in New York City. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the desktop while the phone rang.

“Hello, Jim Nelson speaking.”

“Nelson, this is Goodfellow. Get me the hell out of here. Now! This goddamned disease is spreading just like the flu!
 
It’s not mosquitoes!
 
Where did you get that information anyway? Get me a flight out right away!”

Jim held the phone away from his ear for a second. He had never heard so much anger in Dr. Goodfellow’s voice. “Yes, sir.
 
I’ll pass it on to travel and I’ll get back to you in a few minutes.”

Dr. Goodfellow forced himself to take a deep breath.
 
“OK, good. Let me know ASAP.
 
OK?
 
I really need to get out of here.
 
This disease is not what we thought it was.”

“OK.”

“Alright. Now listen, Jim.
 
There’s something else.
 
There’s some evidence that the disease is selective.”

“Selective?”